


Brothers No More

by TxDorA



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda to Sharp Teeth - s09e12, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 19:46:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TxDorA/pseuds/TxDorA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam didn't realize exactly what he was asking for. <br/>Coda to s09e12 - Sharp Teeth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. When You Get What You Wish For

**Author's Note:**

> A million thanks to the magnificent LoveThemWinchesters. She's not listed as a co-author but she really should be, because without her help this little fic would probably not have seen the light of day.

Sam hadn’t given any consideration, beyond the glaringly obvious, to the full implication of the words he’d spoken to his brother regarding the reinstatement of their familial bond. 

 

But he had sure seen and felt the ramifications of them in the course of the last few days. He’d been so pleased when, on the drive home and the first day following their return from Wisconsin, Dean had kept a business-like demeanor in their communications and interactions that he had missed the little things that had also shifted. He felt as if his words had finally broken through and reached Dean and he was pleased that his brother was trying to be more open to and considerate of Sam’s needs and wants. Dean was now giving Sam what he said he wanted. In other words, Dean had stopped making choices for him or telling him what to do - and it hurt beyond anything Sam could have anticipated.

 

For all intents and purposes, Dean had stopped doing all the little things that Sam had taken for granted as a part of life with his brother. When Sam looked back, the first thing he’d noticed had actually been on the drive back to Kansas and the bunker. They hadn’t spoken to each other for the first few hours of the drive which, in and of itself, was not out of the ordinary. They often spent hours traveling in the Impala with only music (usually one of Dean’s tapes) blaring from Baby’s speakers to fill the companionable silence. Even when they did converse, the music (whether it was Sam’s choice or Dean’s) was always playing softly in the background. This time Dean had turned the stereo _off_ with a quick snap of his wrist three minutes into the drive and it had stayed _off_ the whole trip. Sam had told himself at the time that, since they rarely agreed on what to listen to anyway, it was a sign that Dean was trying to respect his preferences.

 

Sam hadn’t thought to think it strange at the time that Dean hadn’t told him to go in and get drinks and snacks when they stopped for gas at a convenience store or that Dean hadn’t offered to go in and get stuff for them himself. He’d been caught up in the newness of being treated like an equal partner who deserved respect. So when he’d exited the restroom and had seen Dean already in the car waiting to go, he’d gotten in without a word, just assuming that Dean had gone in and bought them snacks while he was in the restroom. But Dean had never offered anything nor had there been any evidence that Dean had entered the store when Sam looked around the backseat two hours later. In fact, the only thing Dean had said to him the whole trip was that he felt good enough to make the drive home straight through (and Sam was welcome to sleep if he wanted) but he did offer to find a motel if Sam wanted to sleep in a bed.

 

Sam had declined the offer and, as a consequence, the brothers had arrived at the bunker eleven hours later, exhausted and sleepy and had gone straight to bed, parting in the hallway outside their separate rooms with tersely spoken “good nights” to each other.

 

It had only gotten worse-or better-depending on your perspective from there. They’d both slept late the next morning so it hadn’t become apparent until the second morning. But Sam couldn’t help noticing when it happened the third morning in a row. Dean didn’t have a cup of coffee ready for Sam when he arrived downstairs in the morning. It wasn’t that Dean didn’t make the same usual full pot (to which Sam was welcome to help himself); it was just that he stopped bringing a cup to the library (or wherever Sam was) for him like Dean had done most mornings of their life together. And Sam understood, really he did. After all who waited on their business partner/co-workers like that?

 

Dean also stopped reading out loud the items he thought should be of interest to Sam from their large selection of morning papers. Instead, Dean just circled the ones he thought might be case-related, then he refolded the papers neatly and returned them to the side table where they were kept so that they would be available when and if Sam chose to read them. Sam declared to himself that he was thankful that Dean no longer interrupted his perusal of the online editions he favored even if it meant he missed some of the funny or quirky items that made his brother smile or laugh (which he told himself he didn’t miss at all).

 

Sam could get used it. He could get used to all of it. Getting his own coffee; reading his own papers; doing his own laundry; making breakfast and lunch on his own schedule (when he remembered) instead of on Dean’s whims and timetables. Cleaning and maintaining his own personal weapons. Sam had almost spoken up at that one. Dean hadn’t demanded that Sam “surrender your weapon, punk” or some other corny cop show line as he usually did when he’d brought the cleaning kit from the weapons room and set up at his usual table to clean his Colt and Taurus and the few other fire arms that required cleaning. And Sam was pleased, figured that meant Dean respected him enough to know when his gun needed cleaning (which it did) and that Sam was capable of doing it himself (which he was) even though Sam didn’t really enjoy doing it the way Dean did and Dean had always been the one maintaining their weapons most of their lives. And he’d know that if he brought his own Taurus to the table Dean would clean it for him without question because Dean wasn’t petty enough to refuse and thereby endanger either or both of them. But he just couldn’t bring himself to admit that he did like some of the things his brother did for him.

 

He could live without knowing when Dean went out or where he went or why, though Dean did fill Sam in when it was case-related. Sam could adjust to no longer having stupid jokes or one-liners, lamely worded insults or ‘Sam(antha) needs to do’ reminders as the subject line on emails from his brother. Just like he’d adjust to Dean no longer being within shoulder brushing distance as they walked around now that Dean was keeping a minimum of twelve inches between them at all times. Or having Dean lean over his shoulder to read from a book or look at the computer screen since Dean now requested that Sam just email or text him a link to the page(s) in question whenever possible.

 

He’d deal with it all...somehow.

 

But there were two things Sam never imagined would happen in his lifetime...

 

One was Dean literally closing a door on him. In the whole of their lives, Sam couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t had open access to his brother, mostly because they’d lived in motel rooms growing up; the same was true to this day…at least it had been until Sam opened his big mouth.

 

On the rare occasions during their childhood that they had stayed in houses or apartments he and Dean had still shared a room. Even in the year since they had inherited the bunker, and finally gotten their own rooms, their bedroom doors had never been completely shut.

 

But now Dean closed the door every time he entered his bedroom and whenever Sam looked at it he saw a huge **“Stay Out”** sign that he knew he had had a large hand in placing there. It really bothered Sam to know that he could no longer just push the door open, walk in, and sit on his brother’s bed and talk whenever he wanted, but he’d resolved to resist the urge to knock on the door and have words with Dean over it. After all, it was what he had said he wanted.

 

Sam should have known that Dean would react to his words by removing all the “brotherly” actions and affections from their interactions and communications that he felt would now be offensive to Sam. It really was typical of Dean; Sam had hurt him by implying that family (Dean’s ‘be all, end all’ reason for everything he did) was a problem so Dean had withdrawn emotionally. Not a surprise given Dean’s need to twist himself into whatever shape he believed helped Sam most regardless of the cost to himself, or Sam apparently.

 

And as much as all those things bothered, irritated, annoyed, or hurt Sam, none of them came close to how much it shocked him to realize that Dean seemed to have finally dropped one word from his vocabulary. And ironically, it was a word that Sam had once asked never to hear again but now found himself longing for the sound of again. Because everything would feel wrong in his world without it…

 

 

 _Sammy_.

 

When he heard that once hated nickname pouring from Dean’s mouth again, **that’s** when he’d know things were back to normal for the Winchesters. When he was “Sammy” instead of “Sam”, he’d know they were brothers again.

 

 

Until then, he’d just have to live with what he’d asked for.

 


	2. On The Other Side Of The Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a reason why Dean closes the door.  
> Tag to s09e12- Sharp Teeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again a million thanks go out to the wonderfully patient and amazing LoveThemWinchester without whose help this would not have been possible.

 

The first thing Dean noticed every morning after waking up was his closed bedroom door.

 

The first thought through his mind was a reminder of why it was closed.

 

He had once again screwed up and betrayed his brother’s trust. And this time, this time, it had cost him big.  

 

It had cost him his brother.

 

Without that closed door between them, as a physical representation of how he was now required to act, Dean knew he would quickly and easily slip back into the habits of a lifetime, habits that had started when he was just four and half years old.

 

There was a part of Dean, a very small part-a selfish part-that said he should be happy about the turn of events, that said he was free of the responsibility, that he should enjoy the freedom, that he had Sam’s own blessing to ignore Sam’s needs and put himself first for a change.  He just didn’t know how NOT to take care of Sam. It had been his job for as long as he could remember, and breaking a thirty year ritual was hard. So he kept his door closed to remind himself of all the things he wasn’t supposed to do anymore…all the things Sam didn’t want him to do anymore.

 

There might as well have been a list taped to the door for him to read, each time he left the room, which reminded him of the things he should and shouldn’t do anymore.

 

_Don’t make ANY choices or decisions for Sam, no matter how small or insignificant they seem._

_Don’t bring him anything, unless he asks for it-even if you think he needs or wants it._

_Don’t tell him that it’s time to do anything.  (Eat, shop, laundry, take a break, clean his guns, sharpen his knifes, etc)._

_Don’t tell him any jokes (NONE!)._

_Don’t tease or insult him by calling him names like Samantha or Princess or Sweetheart._

_Don’t call Sam by any nicknames. (Not Sasquatch; not Gigantor; not Sammy; and especially not Little Brother)._

_Don’t make fun of Sam’s rabbit food or healthy eating habits._

_Don’t criticize any of his skills or offer suggestions for improvements._

_Keep Sam informed of all progress and/or changes on their active cases._

_Give Sam all the time and space he needs._

 

It was an hourly struggle for Dean to keep himself from doing all the things that he had always done for Sam.

 

In the week since they had returned from Wisconsin, it didn’t seem to have gotten any easier to ignore his natural ‘take care of Sammy’ instincts. It probably never would.

 

Dean was doing his best, but it was hard and it hurt…a lot. He knew he would have to work hard to keep himself from crossing the line between partnership and brotherhood.

 

So Dean kept his door closed even though he didn’t want to and no matter how much it killed him.

 

And it would stay closed until Sam knocked on it and asked (literally or figuratively) for Dean to open it again.


	3. Conversations With Dead People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conversations with Castiel and Crowley prompt Sam to have another go at talking to Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN #1 - OOC because this is how I (and hopefully a few others) wish things would go...even though the SPN writers seem to have other ideas. :(
> 
> AN #2 - This part isn't really a coda/tag anymore. But I just couldn't leave things the way they were, I need the boys to be fixed. My apologies for taking so long, but the end of episode 13 "The Purge" wrecked me-took me a while to get over it.
> 
> AN #3 - My thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed and left kudos. It really means alot that you are reading anything I write.
> 
> AN #4 - (Last one I promise.) As usual a million thanks to the awesome LoveThemWinchesters, without whose help this never could have happened. (You should go read her fics - They amazing!)

 

Sam dropped the grocery bags onto the table. Casting his eyes between the staircase leading to the member’s sleeping quarters and the hallway leading to the kitchen, he briefly considered putting at least the perishable items away before going in search of his brother. Just as quickly he dismissed the thought. If he didn’t act on his decision immediately, if he gave himself time to think, he’d lose his resolve – or go crazy.

 

The things he’d learned over the last forty plus hours had been chasing around his brain, especially the last twenty minutes since his unsettling encounter with Crowley outside the grocery store. As much as he fears that pushing an encounter with Dean will make things worse (and he can’t really imagine anything worse than the silent tension they’ve been living with since their confrontation the night they returned from the spa) he’s also certain that things cannot remain as they are if they hope to have any chance of repairing the damage that they’ve both, by actions or words, caused to each other and their relationship. Which despite what his words may have indicated, Sam does not want to see end; he just needs it to change.

 

The advice he received from Castiel and the insight he provided into Dean’s state of mind during their earlier conversation are hard for Sam to ignore. He knows that the angel’s words are sincere and are motivated by genuine concern and caring for both Winchesters. And in a way, they have a large part to do with why Sam feels he should give discussing things with Dean another go. He just hopes that this time he can keep a rein on his emotions; he doesn’t want his words to come out sounding wrong - like he fears they have before; he can’t imagine how Dean took them.

 

Crowley’s words are much easier for Sam to dismiss. He doesn’t know how Crowley knows about the estrangement between the brothers, it could just be a really good guess, or perhaps he has someone watching them, but Sam does know that the majority of what Crowley said to him was a blatant attempt at manipulation. For some reason, and Sam is sure that it is self-serving above anything else, the King of Hell wants the brothers to ‘kiss and make-up’ (Crowley’s words). And while Sam believes that Crowley does indeed want Dean one hundred percent focused on dispatching Abbadon, instead of distracted by a domestic dispute (again Crowley’s words) he is also sure that there is more behind the demon’s motives...there always is.

 

So Crowley’s words are much easier for Sam to ignore - or they would be if one of the last things Crowley had said to him, ‘ _Really Moose, don’t worry too much about caving in to Squirrel’s domineering ways, with the way his dance card is filling up chances are pretty good he won’t be around to control your sad little life much longer anyway’,_ hadn’t so closely echoed the words he’d overheard Dean himself say to Castiel just over thirty-six hours ago.

 

At the time he’d thought that Dean’s assurance to the angel that _‘This’_ (referring to their non-brother status) _‘wouldn’t be an issue much longer’_ meant that Dean thought Sam would get over his anger soon, recant on the work-only stance and things would go back to normal, or what constituted normal for them. But when Sam considered the demon’s words on top of that he couldn’t help but think that there was something he didn’t know about what Dean was planning. This really, if you factored in the events of the last few weeks, shouldn’t have been news to Sam.

 

Sam quickens his steps as he gets closer to their bedrooms, determined to make every effort to get Dean to talk, even if he has to knock down the door to do it. Sam hopes it doesn’t come to that, because that is sure to get Dean’s ire up and lead to a physical confrontation. Sam doesn’t think they can afford to indulge in one given the state of their emotions right now, or maybe that’s exactly what they need. He’s also not sure he can take Dean if it came to it. Despite the height and weight advantage that Sam has, the older hunter has always been just a bit faster, a bit stronger, and a lot more experienced. Sam has rarely been able to beat Dean in a fight, not consistently anyway, and he has no reason to think this time would be any different.

 

Sam is so focused on finding the correct approach-the right words to say-that his brain doesn’t register what his eyes are seeing until he is standing in front of Dean’s door. When he finally does register it, he loses a little bit of the steam that he had mustered on his walk up because Dean’s door is open...wide open.

 

The door has remained firmly closed since their return from Wisconsin; Sam is thrown by the possibility of what the open door could mean. Has Dean stopped shutting him out? Could Dean be open to discussing their issues? Does it mean that Dean is showing signs of adjusting to their new ‘work-only’ relationship? Or is the open door merely an oversight on Dean’s part?

 

From his position in the doorway, Sam can see that Dean is not in the room. The bed is made; there is a small pile of what appears to be clean laundry on the writing table that doubles as a desk; the closet door is open and Sam can see one of Dean’s duffle bags (the larger one he uses for longer trips) lying open at the bottom of it. Not that Dean is a total slob or anything, but Sam notices that the room is surprisingly neat and clean given Dean’s tendency to leave clothing draped over the chairs and that there are usually three to four empty cups or bottles sitting on the desk, dresser or nightstand. None of those things are in evidence currently; Dean must have indulged in a cleaning spree while Sam was out. For some reason the cleanliness of the room sparks a sense of urgency in Sam, he turns quickly, intending to head back downstairs and search for his brother, only to see Dean approaching.

 

Dean is carrying a couple of large, empty boxes. Sam doesn’t remember to step out of the doorway until Dean addresses him with a small nod and an almost friendly sounding “s’cuse me”.

 

His motivation for approaching Dean in the first place temporarily overtaken by curiosity, Sam follows him into the bedroom. Apparently Dean either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care that Sam is there because he doesn’t say anything else. Sam leans against the table while he watches Dean place the boxes on the bed then reach above the nightstand and pull down one of the antique weapons that decorate the wall. He watches as Dean wraps the sword in one of the old beat-up towels that he pulled from the box then carefully places the wrapped item in one of the boxes without saying anything. The look of confusion on Sam’s face vanishes when Dean moves to the next item on the wall, a different and slightly newer weapon, and proceeds to pull it down and wrap it also. Despite the fact that it has just become very clear what Dean is doing, Sam can’t stop himself from actually asking, _“Dean, what are you doing?”_

 

The look Dean tosses at him over his shoulder as he goes to add the wrapped item to the box would most likely have been followed by a sarcastic _“Why don’t you get that big college brain of yours working and see if you can’t figure it out, Sammy”_ a few weeks ago, and accompanied by a teasing grin. Instead Dean turns back towards the box, places the bundle in hand into it, and politely says, _“What does it look like I’m doing?”_

 

Sam draws a deep breath. He has a pretty good idea what is coming and he doesn’t really want to hear it, but he forces himself to say _“Okay, stupid question. I guess the real question is why? Why are you packing up your room?”_

 

Dean drops his right hand to rest at his side while his left hand grips the top of the open box rather tightly, but he doesn’t lift his gaze when he says, _“I’m kinda busy right now. I was plannin’ to tell you tomorrow… Can’t this wait ‘til morning?”_

 

 _“I’m here now. Just go ahead and say it. Why wait? What difference will waiting until the morning make?”_ Sam demands.

 

Dean’s position doesn’t change and Sam doesn’t think that Dean is going to answer him. Sam feels himself losing control of his anger, so with a forceful push, he moves away from the table and heads towards the door. He hasn’t taken more than two steps when he hears Dean clear his throat and say, _“Guess you’re right, morning won’t change anything.”_ Drawing a deep breath, Dean continues, _“Soon as Crowley turns over Cain’s blade I’m ... I’m hitting the road”._

Sam knew Dean was leaving, knew it as soon as he realized Dean was packing but it still hurt to hear him say it. Sam’s next words are supposed to be a statement of what he feels is a fact, but he can still hear the question hanging on the end. _“And, you don’t plan on coming back…?”_

 

Dean is now sitting on the bed, box pushed towards the middle and has his body turned in Sam’s direction, but is looking down at his hands which are resting on his thighs. _“I don’t know. Maybe. There’re a few things I need to take care of first-before I can think about that. And besides, I don’t belong here; I’m not Men of Letters material…”_ If Sam didn’t know Dean as well as he did, he might have missed the sadness that crept into Dean’s last words.

 

Trying to keep a matching sadness from his own voice Sam replies, _“You do belong here, Dean. It’s your home”_.

 

When Dean shrugs and answers with _“It’s not home, its work”,_ it takes Sam a few seconds to realize that Dean is echoing his own words from when Dean had asked why Sam hadn’t really moved in a few months previous. Once he realizes that, Sam searches what he can see of Dean’s face and body language but sees no indication that Dean’s words are anything but coincidental. It still feels like a punch to the gut. Sam can feel his emotions starting to boil over. The situation has taken a turn he never expected and he knows he should take a deep breath, take a step back, and think before he says anything else, but he can’t seem to control the words coming from his mouth. _“So you’re just gonna leave again? What about our partnership? What about eighty-sixing Abbadon? Finding Gadreel and Metatron? Helping Cas get the angels back into Heaven? How are we going to do any of that if you run away?”_ Sam is not quite yelling by the end but his voice has increased in volume with each question and Dean has gotten to his feet in reaction.

 

There is no denying the anger that is lacing Dean’s voice when his own voice rises in answer, _“Running away? Really? **That’s** what you think?” _ Then it quickly turns flat when with a humorless laugh he continues, _“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised, right Sam? That’s what you’d expect from a weak, selfish person like me, huh?”_

 

Sam is completely thrown for a loss at the self-hate that laces his brother’s voice. _“What?...No!...Dean, I never said...I didn’t mean...”_

 

But Dean continues as if Sam isn’t trying to speak. _“But despite what you think of me, I’m not quitting on any of that. Abbadon’s days are numbered. Gadreel’s gonna answer for Kevin... Metatron too. Hell, I’ll even gank that ass, Crowley, if I get the chance…”_ Dean’s voice trails off for a second, but before Sam can voice the words forming in his heart, Dean continues,and this time Sam doesn’t doubt that the words are deliberate. _“I don’t think of it as running away; I see this more as moving on, or maybe in my case, getting back. I’m getting back to what I’m good at...back where I belong. Anyway what difference does the reason make? Running away, moving on - either way you’ll get what you want.”_

 

And just like that the crux of the problem is staring them in the face and Sam seizes the best opportunity he’s had to make his point. _“Oh yeah? And what is it that you **think** I want Dean? Please enlighten me!” _

 

 _“Autonomy. Independence. Self-sufficiency. I don’t know - whatever you wanna call it. All I know is that you don’t want us to be brothers anymore. Just work partners. Fine. I can be your partner from anywhere.”_ There is anger again in Dean’s voice but Sam hears the pain and sadness too.

 

Sam feels the words bubbling up and suddenly doesn’t care how they sound; he just has to get them out. _“God, you are so stupid sometimes. Do you really think that I would be here if what I wanted was to be away from you?”_ At Dean’s questioning look he continues, _“I want you to stop treating me like a kid. I want you to treat me like your equal. I want you to believe in me. I want you to respect me, my choices, and my decisions. I, however, do not want you to leave.”_

Dean shoots him a disbelieving stare. _“Is that what you think? That I don’t believe in you? That I don’t respect you? Because it’s not true. That’s not what it’s about.”_ Sam sees Dean’s shoulders sag as if in defeat and his voice when he speaks again is resigned. _“But your are right about me. I’m weak and I’m selfish. I can’t do this by myself. I don’t want to.”_

_“Then why are you leaving?”_ Sam asks.

Dean’s eyes dart away from Sam’s for a second before taking a deep breath then looking Sam in the face again before he seems to blurt out, _“Because I can’t be here with you and NOT treat you like family. I’ve been watching out for you since the day Mom brought you home and told me that she just knew I was going to be the best big brother ever. I don’t know how I’m supposed to let that go.”_

The words make Sam wish for just an instant that he could take back everything he’s said since learning about Gadreel. He wants to hug Dean and tell him that he doesn’t blame him, that he can see that Dean was just trying to live up to the expectations their parents forced on him when he was way too young to comprehend what it entailed. But Sam knows that if he does nothing will ever change, and it will only lead them back around to this point again eventually. So, instead, in as steady a voice as he can muster he says, _“You’ve never told me that before - about Mom. And she wasn’t wrong – you **have** been the best big brother anyone could ever hope to have. The things you’ve done for me, given me, given up for me. I appreciate them; I can’t ever express how much they mean. And I know the things I’ve said recently have come out all wrong. But I needed to say them. Dean, we can’t keep doing this. It only ends up hurting us and the people we care about. You need to let me go.” _

_“How Sam? How do I that?”_ Dean sounds sincere, like he truly wants Sam to explain how something like that would work.

 

Sam takes a moment to let the words form because he knows that this is it and then replies, _“You let me help you. You stop trying to protect me by carrying everything by yourself. You’ve done that long enough. Let me stand next to you and help you shoulder the burdens; help you carry the responsibilities. Please, let me help.”_

_“That’s not how it’s normally supposed work”._ There is a small smile playing at Dean’s lips and Sam thinks Dean is trying to lighten the mood a little, steering them away from what he would consider an awkward or embarrassing emotionally charged ‘chick flick’ moment with a small bit of ironic humor, a classic Dean move.

An answering smile tugs at Sam’s lips because he can feel them starting to slide back towards the comfortable rhythm they have shared most of their lives. _“I know, but when have we ever been normal? Can’t we at least try?”_ They are too close to reaching an understanding for him to give in now.

_“Okay.”_ With that one simple word Dean turns, reaches into the box, and pulls out one of the weapons and begins to unwrap it. _“I can’t promise that I’ll stand by and let some piece of supernatural shit kill you. But I can promise to try harder to be the brother you want me to be.”_

A full smile graces Sam face as he says, _“I can live with that. I know it won’t be easy, but if we work together we can deal with anything right?”_

_“I’d like to see anyone try to stop us”._ With that, Dean turns toward the wall and replaces the smaller of the weapons he removed before casually throwing out, _“Let me put these back and then we can talk about what I...what we are going to do for dinner.”_

Sam knows that things are not fixed, not really. They still have a lot to discuss. He understands that they might never be able to actually find a compromise between their needs that works for both of them, but for now he lets it be enough that they are going to try.

 

Dean’s words about dinner remind him that he left groceries on the table and he excuses himself to go take care of putting them away. “I’ll see you downstairs in a few, okay?” When he’s standing in the open doorway, he turns back and nervously clears his throat. Dean turns his head and gives him a questioning look. Sam tentively says, _“Umm...could you do something for me?  Can you leave your door open?”_

Dean gives him that grin, the one that says he thinks Sam is asking stupidly obvious questions, but only says, _“Of course, Sammy”_.

 

     *•.¸(*•.¸♡¸.•*´.)¸.•*´  
       «´¨•THE END •¨`»  
     ¸.•*(¸.•*´♡`*•.¸)`*•.¸


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